


griever, my believer

by crownedcirce



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Depression, Drabble, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, Loss, M/M, POV Second Person, i have a thing for cemeteries im sorry pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 13:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcirce/pseuds/crownedcirce
Summary: It's been a year since Grandpa left this earth. Yuri is still struggling.





	griever, my believer

**Author's Note:**

> oh look, i wrote something? 
> 
> it's sad and i'm sorry about that, i swear! but it's a short little experimental drabble. The title of this fic comes from "heavenfaced" by The National
> 
> content warnings for: death, loss, grieving and mentions of depression. 
> 
> you can yell at me on tumblr @ [punktsuki](https://punktsuki.tumblr.com/)

Grief is sometimes looking for him in the people that are still here. 

 

“You have his eyes,” they’ll say as if that’s supposed to make you feel better, or whole, or as if the thought of him doesn’t draw attention to the gaping hole in your chest. 

 

Grief sometimes comes before the person you know is gone. It twists and turns in your stomach, it manifests itself as guilt. You shouldn’t be thinking the worst, right? He could get better, he could get through this. This could turn around, he’s still here with you, right? 

 

Don’t throw it away. 

 

Grief can sometimes be in hiding, sleeping just under the surface before it makes itself known in the last birthday card he ever gave you, hidden at the back of your closet. You don’t remember putting it there and for a minute you’re unsure why you ever did. The familiar swirl of handwriting feels at once as though it could be the noose that ties around your neck but also the soothing voice of a lullaby he sang to you as a child. 

 

You know how it works now, you’ve felt it so many times. 

 

Grief doesn’t come and then go. It ebbs and it flows, it washes up and crashes over and over. It waits until you’re okay and then it reminds you that he’s gone until you can barely breathe. At first there’s pain, then relief. Still, there is guilt despite knowing you couldn’t have changed a thing. You get nightmares sometimes. Other nights seem easier, but once they do you’re thrown back. The grief and the guilt crawl in. 

 

You haven’t been here since the funeral. You hate yourself for that and you hope with all your heart that he understands. 

 

“Hey, Grandpa,” you say. “It’s Yuri. I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you.” 

 

_ Silence.  _

 

“Otabek said it might do me some good to talk to you.”

 

_ Nothing.  _

 

This feels so fucking stupid, he’s not here. He’s not coming back. 

 

“Thought maybe, I could say  _ happy birthday _ .” Your voice cracks and burns. Memories of this day in the past are overbearing. You think you can smell the extinguished scent of burning wax candles. There could have been seventy-one of them today. 

 

It’s been a year now, though. He’s never going to get older. You tell yourself this until the smell fades away, stored in the corner of your mind put aside for him. 

 

“I never said that I was sorry for not living up to… who you thought I could. Who you thought I should be.” You’ve never said that out loud before. God, it  _ hurts _ . 

 

It’s been twelve months of treading dark water. You’re tired. He’s not here but still, it’s him that keeps your head above the sea made from the tears of the ones he left behind. 

 

You know you hurt him, but there’s nothing you can do. You’ve tried, really.

 

So, you cry. 


End file.
